Dad
by FBIEpidemic
Summary: Jason would rather act like he hates his family than actually admit that he loves them. Like always, a dumb stunt on Bruce's behalf and Dick's tattle tongue have him crawling back to the family he does love. Just a couple of stories of the times that Jason (and the other boys and my girls) calling Bruce dad
1. Chapter 1

**Just a fic idea that I thought about after a psych lesson.**

 **I have no rights or even anything, really. This is just a stand alone. It has nothing to do with anything.**

 **For reference, Barabara has been shot, Jason is still as pissed as ever, Damian is still an adorable asshole, Tim is still Tim, and Dick is well Dick.**

* * *

Jason didn't care that Artemis could hear every word of his conversation with his brother, he had to make his point clear. Crystal clear. "I don't want to come, Dick. I don't need to come. If he dies, no skin off my back, he didn't write me into the will, everyone knows that. That's the only reason I would need to be there." The phone in his hand groans at the grip he has around it," the Brat gets the mansion, you get the cave, Timmy gets the business and if the old fart was in a good mood then maybe an I get a car."

He can hear Drake complain something in the background but it's cut-off by Dick. "J, I know you're mad at him but...He's could die and I haven't seen him yet but Clark has and he's scared."

A part of Jason, that he wishes he could just shoot out or had been beaten out by the Joker, thinks that Clark deserves to be scared. Bruce is a man and Clark is practically a God in comparison. Clark should have protected Bruce. If Clark had protected Bruce then Jason wouldn't be here right now wondering if his fa- Bruce would make it or not.

Anger is boiling in him and he is so pissed that a group of metas can't watch the one human on their team.

"Jason, please, he-"

"Shut up," Jason's voice is mean, he doesn't care. "I'm coming but only because I want to give those idiots a piece of my mind. They are all so unbelievable. Blind bunch'a pricks if you ask me."

He ignores the smile that he can hear in Dick's voice," should I tell them that?"

Jason ignores the question," don't you tell, B, I'm coming. Don't want him getting his hopes up or anything."

Once again, that dumb smile is ever present in Dick's voice," right. Right, well make sure the big doesn't find out. Just be here, alright."

"Yeah, whatever."

The trip, oh so familiar, is short and yet the longest he's ever taken. Snow falls around him and he can only think of the memories he's made along these streets, with and without his family.

Family. He hates that word.

"Master Todd," he recalls the outburst that prompted Alfred to stop using his given name and instead revert his last name. Something that no one had called him… ever.

"Hey, Al?" Jason shuts the heavy mansion door behind himself, he hates Bruce for installing such manners into him. He's not petty, it's not petty if he deserves it… is it? "I take back, what I said last time about the whole family thing."

Graciously, Alfred understands and nods. "Very well then." The old butler smiles fondly at the young man," you're looking well, sir."

Jason smiles, being bitter at Bruce does not mean he needs to be bitter to Alfred. Not after all the faithful years, Alfred spent raising everyone. "Thank, Al."

Alfred points him to his brothers and there's this panic that Jason finds snaking up his diaphragm. He chaste himself for it because if he's scared than that means he cares and that is the most dangerous game to play when you're Bruce Wayne's son.

Bruce Wayne's son, he shakes his head. He's no such thing.

"JASON!"

"TOOODDDDDD!"

Too bad Bruce isn't in his grave because that would have him turning in his grave. Poor bastard honestly has no clue that even in death he can't escape his hell-raising kids.

"Hello, Jason." Barbara has always been his secret favorite. She doesn't pity, she speaks nothing but what she thinks is honest, and she will rip Bruce a new one.

He hugs her and she rubs a hand down his back, there is no pity only an understanding of how he feels.

He hates Dick and Jason thinks that fair.

The overbearingly happy man-child is just that, overbearing. And Dick always hugs him and this time when Dick pulls Jason into a hug he happily whispers," I swear I didn't tell Dad but he knows you're coming."

"Ass."

Damian hears this and turns around so quickly that Jason isn't surprised the boy didn't give himself whiplash," you're an ass, Todd."

Tim hears this and grins devilishly," Oh listen hear Demon breathe I don't think you get to call anyone an ass. You are the very definition of an ass."

"Actually, the 'very definition' of an ass is a stupid or foolish person."

Tim whirls around to face Jason and without missing a beat," wow Todd, I didn't know you could read."

Todd rolls it off," Christ, kid. What are you guys feeding him? Salt?"

Diana Prince looks over Bruce's children and she can't help but wonder how they can all be so calm so happy. They think they can save him. They think he's gonna make it through this.

"Jason," her voice interrupts the brotherly banter that was being exchanged. "Your father is asking for you." She hangs half out of Bruce's bedroom door and halfway into the hall.

The hallway, filled to the brim with people, parts as Jason lowers his eyes to the floor and makes his way through. "Don't know which one of you narked but when I find out I'm gonna kick your ass."

He grimaces as he passes Diana, it's his best attempt at a smile.

"Master Bruce," Jason sees Alfred standing over Bruce's slack body. He wonders how the butler managed to go from downstairs in the kitchen to Bruce's bedroom without Jason ever seeing him. "Master Jason is here."

Piercing blue eyes turn to him, confusion and pain etched into the lines all around them. "Jay?"'

Jason reminds himself that he hates this man. He hates everything he stands for and loathes the things he falls for. This man is not his father. This man is… is…

"Hey, B."

Alfred excuses himself and Jason simply stands in the doorway. He clears his throat," you and Diana a thing now? Saw she was in here."

Sheer exhaustion is the only reason that Jason can't hear disappointment or discontent in Bruce's voice. "You know we're not."

Jason sees the old leather chair in the corner of the room, he seeks out some familiarity in its soft caving surface.

"I'm sorry, Jay." Blue eyes follow him to the chair and it's like Dick has taken over his body because he's actually pulling the chair back to Bruce's bed. He stops, though, to grab a book as some attempt to disguise his actions as selfish.

He knocks Bruce's comment away," who isn't?"

His eyes meet Bruce's for only a moment and… is this guilt? Is this guilt he's feeling? He finds himself stuttering to take it back," we-we've all got things to apologize for."

Jason can see Bruce physically relax at the fixing of Jason's remark. "Still smoking?"

Jason throws himself into the chair and digs out a half-empty pack from his pocket and tosses them onto the bed at Bruce. "Not much anymore," then Jason points a finger at his mentor's bare chest. "Not because of you either. It was all me, got tired of the smell."

Bruce nods, they both know it's a lie. "Just glad you stopped." The drugs are dragging him down. Jason can see the lines in Bruce's face disappear with each passing moment. Screw those metas. Why doesn't anyone look out for this family?

"Jay?" Bruce fights his way back up and half-lidded eyes focus on him," when I die, you do get more than a car."

Jason shakes his head and can't hold down a chuckle," I'm gonna kick your kid's ass, B." Jason knew that Dick narked on him but at least, up until that moment, Dick hadn't told Bruce everything.

Bruce reaches out, across the satin sheets to take his son's hand. He knows that Jason has never really felt like he belonged and Bruce would like to think that he fixed that but Tim doesn't think he belongs either. "Not too hard, hear me? Dick gets kinda sensitive about having his ass handed to him."

Jason shakes his head this time and Bruce matches his son's deep chuckle but he is cut off with deep wet coughs. Jason's face falls and he buries his worry as best as he can," careful, you brooding it do it. If you die while I'm in here your evil spawn will kill me."

Jason is horrified at how easily he just glides into the son role by handing Bruce a cup of water and waiting patiently for the man to take a sip and settle back down. In another vain attempt to brush off his caring gesture he adds a taunting," God knows what your girlfriend would do to me."

Bruce's eyes are closed but he whispers," Diana is not my girlfriend, Jason."

Jason smirks and cracks the book that he had picked up open. "Whatever you say, boss."

Moments pass, full of the hiss of the nasal canal under Bruce's nose, and the flipping of pages. Jason's eyes scan the words but he doesn't need to read the words to know what it says. This particular copy of Pride and Prejudice was well loved in the mansion. Bruce would often read out of it. Or rather he used too. Dick still reads it. Gets so into it that he will fall asleep with it on his chest, falling off the couch, or in a heap on the floor.

"Jay?" Bruce's voice has a sleepy edge too it, soft and almost loving. "Jay, I am proud of you." He hand moves on the sheet and Jason's eyes flick to the trembling left hand. "I'm sorry I can't say it."

Jason watches his mentor fall into a restless slumber and shuts the book. He reaches across and puts his hand on Bruce's. "I-I love you too,... Dad."


	2. Chapter 2

**This time it's more than just Jason calling Bruce 'Dad'**

* * *

The first thing to register in his groggy mind is the warm sticky substance keeping his waist glued to the bed. His left hand, the only part of him not cramped up from sleeping at such an odd angle, makes its way to him of his boxers where he feels the origins of the glue-like paste.

A throb rocks through his body and he recalls last night's stabbing. Jason had been out, distracting Bruce with little tricks and annoyances. It was his own fault, he should have seen the muggers knife. He was just caught up in Jason and not the three other muggers. The man's knife had swung just right and wedged between his armor.

Making no noise to alarm any of the occupants of the manor, Bruce reopens the wound as he seats up. His entire body disclosing its anger in such an action, he ends up grunting as the last bit of the scab comes free and a new round of bleeding begins.

He uses trembling hands to pack the wound and wraps it as thin as he can. He's got three board meetings this morning and he wearing a vest to hide the gauze will only further agitate the wound.

"Bruce!" Dick waits only a second before throwing his adopted father's bedroom door open. Dick searches the room, bringing droplets of water along behind him," I'm out of shampoo." He finds his father in the bathroom and doesn't even bother gawking at the wound at his father's side. "Shampoo," he repeats opening and closing his hands in a grabbing motion. "Need it."

Bruce, with one hand over his wound, leans into his shower to hand his bottle of shampoo over to his oldest. "I'd like that back when you're done," but Dick is already scampering out of the room by the time Bruce leans over the sink. The pain is making it impossible to think and he can feel himself losing the battle of consciousness.

He closes his eyes and leans into the sink. Allowing the cold bit of the white ceramic to rest against his bare chest and legs. No sooner than he does that is his peace once again is interrupted.

"Scoot," boney hip taps against his and he opens his eyes to see Tim standing by him. Tim stands on the tips of his toes trying his best to look formal but a boy who wears converse with a suit and rides a skateboard to work can only be so professional.

"Let me see it," he moves past the agonizing pain opting to help Tim tie a square knot. As he brings his hand around to finish, Tim squirms away.

"Thank you!" Half tripping over his untied shoelaces Tim runs from Bruce's bathroom and down the stairs. Bruce lets out a breath, half out of thanks that Tim didn't split his skull open when he ran down the stairs but mostly because it's becoming harder to breath.

The rest of Bruce's morning goes unbothered, he slicks his hair back as best as he can and even manages to get his dress shoes on.

That is until the stumbling of one of his… countless teen spies.

Although her lanky legs are useful in her nightlife they tend to be grueling and troublesome by day, amazing how that seems to be something that ails every single teen in his house. He'll have to look into something but instead dwelling on a workout he sits the girl back on her feet.

"Good morning," Cass signs with a small smile, pushing herself away from the older man. When she rights herself, stubbornly keeping away from Bruce and any help he may seek to give, she smirks one last time before scampering away. Not even glancing back at him as she runs down the stairs.

He's left alone on the stairwell once again.

When he hits the bottom, swaying slightly, and sweating profusely, he's greeted by his entire family but not a single one of them pay him any mind. Instead of mixing himself in with the horseplay and antics he shuffles to the living room. Opting instead to collapse on the couch rather than on the floor.

The ceiling spins and blurs for only a minute before he sinks into the pillows, board meetings and the kitchen full of children forgotten.

* * *

"Mary had a little pig,  
She kept it fat and plastered;  
And when the price of pork went up,  
She shot the little bastard."

Soft, meticulous humming distracts him from the pressure being put on his abdomen. It's how he knows Jason Todd has administered a local anesthetic, it's also how he knows there are numerous teenagers peering at him. Only _they_ would call Jason.

"Language," he whispers softly, turning his head to grin at his most troublesome son.

Jason groans dramatically," but Daaaad. I only said bastard!" He doesn't look up from his work, instead of tying of his final stitch and breaking the string with his teeth. He spits him the string out of his mouth," there."

He rises from his spot on the floor, uncurling his long legs from underneath himself and using Bruce's extended thigh roughly to push on as he stands. He's almost disappointed that he doesn't' get a rise out of anyone for it.

"I went to your board meetings, B." Tim throws himself up over the back of the couch, toeing his dirty converse off and letting them fall to the ground his tie falling quickly beside it. "Nothing to report except we should totally serve cookies at those meeting."

Bruce grunts in remark, a singular 'we'll see' to someone who happens to be fluent in Bruce. Tim just so happens to be a professional and clicks his heels excitedly. A plan in his mind already forming to pester Bruce until he gives.

"I put your washy stuff back," Dick says triumphantly, proud of himself for actually remembering to put his father's soap back. "Washed your sheets too. B, you got blood everywhere like it was insa- Holy Graf Zeppelin, Batman! I left you soapy on the nightstand!"

Barbara watches as Dick stumbles and falls his ways up the stairs. Glancing at Bruce as she sighs, he offers her a blank look. "There has to be something seriously wrong with that boy."

Jason doesn't miss a beat as he walks back into the room wiping his bloodied hands off on a towel. "Oh, there is," Jason smirks," undoubtedly. I gotta get out of here, I've got patrol and I believe little Dickie does as well."

Damien is suddenly inches from Bruce's face," Father, I would like to accompany Richard."

The large room erupts in shouts as Tim pushes Damien and argues that he should be the one to go with Dick. Cass jumps in, pulling the two apart but Jason pulls her back trying to keep the fight going. In just seconds the small group, which had gathered nicely around him, are throwing fist and insults.

"He's _my_ father, of course, he'll allow _me_ to go!"

"He got stuck with you! He actually chose the rest of us!"

"If that's the case, I'd smoke all you bitches. I hit him and stole his tires when we met."

"Yeah but- _Dad_ , who do you love the most?"

"Me, obviously. Isn't that right Dad?"

"Dad!"

"Father, tell them."

He blinks slowly, taking in all of the faces around him. Every single one so sure that he'll choose them. "I decline to answer that." He pushes himself into a seated position and then wobbly coming to stand on his feet.

He had thought that slowly making his way back to his own room would have gotten him away from their bickering, instead, they just brought it with them. "Hey!" The yelling ceases and that's only because he sounded more like Batman than Bruce but if the other guy does the trick then hell, who cares? "I'm exhausted and my back is killing me so I'd like to just lay in my bed and try to sleep until patrol. Alright?"

Dick is the first to answer," right. I'm sorry, B. I should have known."

Bruce sighs deeply at the guilt written all over the younger man's face. "Dammit, Dick. That's not-"

He shakes his head," no. We shouldn't have argued. Just lay down, I'll go get a heating pad for your back."

"I'll go get some water," Barbara offers with a smile, following Dick.

Damien pushes past him, moving into his room," I'll get you a clean shirt, father."

"Seat down," Jason grunts, tossing his helmet to the ground," you've torn my stitches."

Cass disappears and Bruce figures she's gone to get more gauze.

Alone in the large bedroom, Jason whispers," I'm sorry I got you stabbed, B."

Bruce leans back until he feels his head hit the pillows of his overly large bed. His eyes are drifting shut when Dick returns and Jason has him running back out, telling his older brother to get a bag of blood and an IV. When Barbara gets back, he's only partially awake so with the help of Jason, they lift his shoulders and rest the pillow like pad over the large scar on his back.

The rest gather in, he can smell Tim's weird cologne, feel Damien's fuzzy socks tucking under his arm, and can feel Cass' eyes looking him over from wherever she's perched in the room. Barbara takes his hand, slowly rubbing the tension from them with rough calloused fingers.

"Do you really think he has a favorite?" It's unmistakable Tim asking the question and probably inching his way closer to Dick and as far as possible from Bruce.

Dick answers though with a small half smile," no." A small chuckle escapes his lips and he busts out laughing before deepening his voice and muttering," because he's _**Batman**_."

Bruce finally falls asleep to his kid's giggles and each one doing their own interpretation of 'I'm Batman'.


End file.
